All In Green
by GoddessOfApples
Summary: Molly goes to the Holmes' place for Easter holiday.
1. Chapter 1

**Molly goes to The Holmes' place for Easter holiday.**

It was breakfast at the Great Hall and Molly was nibbling absentmindedly with her toast. The second later she wasn't alone anymore, when Sherlock sat beside her and grabbed a toast to himself.

"Morning," she greeted him cheerfully to which the Ravenclaw boy only grunted in reply and bit down on his food.

Molly was used to his grumpy mood so she paid no attention to it. "Bad night, wasn't it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued eating. Molly just sighed, turning her attention back on the toast. The chatter in the Hall was enough not to create an awkward silence between them, as they sat together.

A dramatic swoosh of wings announced the arrival of the morning post. Molly bent down, when a large and elegant dark brown Eurasian Eagle-Owl flew above their heads and landed gracefully in front of Sherlock.

"Hello, Artemis," said Molly, who was very fond of the bird.

The owl playfully bit her finger while reaching out her leg to Sherlock. He untied the letter attached there and gently caressed Artemis's head, giving her some snacks from the breakfast table. She let out a quiet hoot of appreciation and closed her deep orange eyes in contentment.

Sherlock quickly scanned the letter (judging by the handwriting, Molly guessed it was from his mother) and then closed it with a sigh. Then he turned his body towards the young witch and looked her over from head to toe.

"What is it?" she nervously asked, putting her toast on the plate, where Artemis immediately started destroying it.

"Mummy is inviting you over to our place for the Easter holiday," Sherlock answered. "She is quite persistent. She says, I quote, "If you don't bring her over, I'll be forced to send you to visit Aunt Mildred with daddy and Micky." And since I am not overly fond of my Aunt Mildred, I'm afraid I will leave you no other choice but to come."

Molly grinned happily. Her mother had told her that she would be visiting Molly's older brothers over Easter, so her plan had been to stay at Hogwarts and look over the exam material again to stave off boredom.

"Are you asking?"

"Obviously. But only if you say yes, because otherwise I might just slip some Sleeping Draught in your drink and bring you anyway. But I'm fairly certain you will, since you have no other plans."

The girl, much to Sherlock's surprise, hugged him very tight. "Thank you so much! I've never been to your house before. I would love to come!"

A long whistle and giggling sounded behind their backs, announcing their best friends' arrival, making Molly and Sherlock immediately create some distance between each other. Mary and John were standing, holding hands, and wildly grinning.

"Hello, lovebirds," Mary teased and sat next to Molly behind the table, giving her a friendly bump on the shoulder.

Molly blushed red and stuttered: "Oh! We're not... I mean... It's not... Mary!"

Sherlock was suddenly very interested in cleaning his owl's feathers, but you could see a faint shade of pink cover his cheeks. John sat down and wiggled his eyebrows at Mary, who winked back in return.

"So what's going on?" John asked, grabbing an abandoned Daily Prophet from the table and pouring some cereal with milk into a bowl.

Molly smiled brightly. "Sherlock has asked me over for Easter holiday."

"My _mother_ asked you over for Easter holiday," the boy grumbled, but everybody ignored him.

Mary mouthed a victorious _Yeah! _in John's direction.

"So when will you be going?"

"Tomorrow. We'll go to Hogsmeade and apparate from there."

Molly's eyes went wide as saucers. "Sherlock..."

"I'm well aware. _I_ can and am allowed, so we'll just do a Side-Along Apparition."

"But..."

"I'm not going to fly to the other side of Great Britain just because you're too big of a- Ow!" Artemis had bit Sherlock's finger.

John laughed. "Even your owl knows when you are being an arse, Sherlock."

Artemis was now trying comfort Molly by insistently pressing her head under the girls hand, so she would scratch her feathers, while sending deadly glares with her fire-coloured eyes in Sherlock's direction. Molly giggled and gave in to the owls persistence, to which she let out a loud hoot.

"Show-off," Sherlock growled, while trying to stop the bleeding.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, I am sure about this or I wouldn't be doing it. Now give me your hand!"

Reluctantly she did what he demanded and shifted her backpack so it would stay more comfortably on during the travel. The morning weather was foggy, so they had seen nobody on their way to Hogsmeade. It was also a bit chilly and Molly was beginning to regret her choice of clothes. She tugged at her sleeves, hoping that it would be warmer in England.

Sherlock tightly squeezed her palm and she closed her eyes, in hopes that it will decrease the dizziness. The next moment she felt like she was being pushed through a tight tube. When she knew that the journey was over, her legs gave in and she fell in slow motion face forward towards the ground.

Molly opened her eyes and saw the green grass moving closer, until Sherlock's arms grabbed around her, stopping her from hitting her head. When he was sure that she wouldn't faint or vomit, he helped her stand up straight.

"That was horrible," Molly said with a weak voice and a pale face.

Sherlock huffed. "Honestly, Molly. I don't see why you don't like to apparate. It's the fastest and most convenient way of traveling."

She swatted him weakly and took a water bottle (meant for just this occasion) out of her bag's side pocket. "I get motion sickness. It may be the fastest, but not the most convenient way for me." She drank her water in small sips and then turned the bottle closed.

Sherlock had rolled his eyes and made his way to the large red house, leaving Molly to look around for the first time.

"Ohh," she gasped.

The Holmes' residence stood proudly in the middle of a small lovely garden, filled with colourful flowers, herbs and magical plants. You could tell immediately that it was a wizard family's house. Especially because of the fact that there were actual muggle garden gnomes walking around the flowerbeds, scratching their behinds and trying to pull down their red hats.

Molly was lucky and instead of the foggy wet chilly weather, there was sunshine and light wind. She smiled brightly and breathed in the spring, the scent of freshly mowed grass and flowers filling her lungs.

"Are you coming or not?" Sherlock's sharp voice cut through her dreamy haze. He was standing about 50 feet away at the garden gate, tapping his foot on the road, so Molly smiled and rushed to him, the uneasiness of the travel having worn off.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Are you coming or not?" Sherlock's sharp voice cut through her dreamy haze. He was standing about 50 feet away at the garden gate, tapping his foot on the road, so Molly smiled and rushed to him, the uneasiness of the travel having worn off._

Sherlock opened the small gate to her and she walked through the enchanted garden, eyes wide with wonder. As a muggleborn child she had never been to a wizard family's house before.

The front door of the red house opened and an older woman came out, wearing a purple robe and a flower-patterned apron, her wand sticking out of the pocket. Noticing the two teenagers, she immediately smiled.

"Sherlock, dear! I didn't expect you so soon!"

Sherlock greeted her: "You said morning, you didn't specify time."

She smirked. "It's good to see you, too, Sherlock."

He couldn't help but smile back. "Likewise, mummy." Mrs. Holmes stepped to him and wrapped her arms around him. What surprised Molly was that how much Sherlock didn't mind her mother's affections. He hugged her tightly and she kissed his temple.

"I wish you had come home for Christmas. I haven't seen you since September," she said and let him go to look at him properly. "You're still so thin! Have you been eating normally? Do they give you any nutritious food at Hogwarts or do they just pamper you with sweets? I need to have a word with Albus about those house-elves in the kitchen!"

"I'm fine!" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The food is good and even if we have a lot of sweets, it's during the holidays."

"It's convenient that you came home for Easter then, isn't it." She laughed.

Molly had been observing the conversation with a wide smile. She was surprised that Sherlock's mother was so... normal. She already liked her a lot.

Then Mrs. Holmes finally turned to Molly. "And you must be Molly! Oh dear! It is so nice to finally meet you! Sherlock has talked about you so much and we have been wanting to meet you since first year!" She hugged her as well, while Molly was still trying to comprehend the fact that Sherlock had been talking about her.

"I hope you two are staying for the whole week. Micky and father left last night and they won't be back until Wednesday. I'd be all alone here."

Molly shook her head to clear it. "I would like it very much, if Sherlock agrees."

He just muttered "Fine." and sent a small smile in his mum's direction.

Mrs. Holmes clapped her hands together. "That's settled then. Let's go inside, so you can put your bag somewhere. We can't stand here chatting all day, now can we!" She waved them inside and Sherlock motioned Molly to go in after his mother.

* * *

"Oh, Mrs. Holmes! Your house is beautiful!" Molly exclaimed, once she had had a look around.

"Call me Violet, dear. And thank you."

They were standing in the living room. At first it looked like a normal muggle country house, but if you started observing closer, you could see little snippets of magical things. The clock on the wall with moving planets, the pictures on the walls that didn't stay still.

The air was filled with a cosy scent that reminded Molly of silent flames in the fireplace, home-made bread and freshly cut tyme. Everything was in warm tones. The walls were painted dark green, a part of the house's structure showing on the pillars, which were made of dark brown wood, pictures covering a large part of the free surface.

Facing the gray fireplace was a sofa, two armchairs at its sides, and a low coffee table, decorated with spring flowers. The crocheted pillowcases and doilies showed the feminine touch in the house. The place was nicely clean, even the books in the shelves were arranged by size.

In short, it was nothing that Molly expected from the home of Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Holmes smiled fondly at Molly's wonder and opened one of the windows, to let in some fresh air. The room filled with bird song and chirping.

"You can choose now, Molly, where you want to sleep. Mycroft's room will be free until Wednesday, the sofa is available, although I don't recommend it, it's quite squeaky, or we can make an extra bed for you in Sherlock's room. But of course that means you will have to clean it, Sherlock. Remind me to have a word with Micky about those protective enchantments on your door. I know you weren't the one who made them."

Sherlock sighed and said: "Come, Molly. You really don't want that sofa. And Mycroft will want his room back anyway."

"Okay," she squeaked, blushing about the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. Sherlock went to the hallway and up the creaky stairs, Molly following behind.

"Make sure he actually cleans anything, dear," they heard Mrs. Holmes shout. "And breakfast is going to be ready in twenty minutes."

Up the stairs there was another hallway, which ended with a window from which the morning sun shone in. It made the dark brown walls colorful with the little specks of light and the tiny rainbows that were created because the window was still wet from the morning mist. There were two doors to the right and one to the left.

Sherlock stepped on, casually pointing at the first door. "That's Mycroft's room. Mum and dad are opposite him." He stood still in front of the last door and took out his long black wand.

"Mycroft owed me a favour. Last summer I caught him snogging his boyfriend in Diagon Alley and he made me promise not to tell mum and dad. He doesn't want them to invite him over. Wise decision. They'll probably make him look at Mike's baby pictures. He used to be incredibly fat, you know" he told Molly and knocked lightly on his door with the tip of his wand.

"So in return I made him put protective enchantments on my room that only _I_ can lift. Part of the reason why I didn't want to go home for Christmas. I wasn't 17 yet. It should be alright now though." Sherlock tapped the doorknob and with a clicking sound it opened, revealing a dark room. He smiled victoriously.

Heavy curtains were pulled on the window and they blocked out the light, making it difficult for Molly to see what was in the room. With a swift move of his wand, the curtains flew open, filling the room with enough light to see the disaster.

"Dear god, Sherlock!" Molly groaned. This room was more like Molly had imagined what Sherlock's permanent living place would look like.

Dust was floating around in the air, covering every available surface. The large bed was unmade, sheets lying around on the floor among the piles of discarded parchment and clothes. The table under the window was filled with suspicious looking jars, broken quills and more parchment, while the blue walls were covered with diagrams, tables and pictures of what seemed to be...

"Splinching?" Molly asked Sherlock when she had made her way into the room and looked around.

The boy looked a bit awkward. "Ah yes. I was studying the side-effects of apparating."

"I think it's fascinating." Molly smiled at him.

After a moment of surprise, he smiled back. "It is."

She looked around again, then put down her backpack, took off her jacket and searched out her wand from her pocket. "I suppose we should start right away."

Sherlock nodded in reply, rising his wand. The two of them waved their wands, each move making something move itself, so soon the room was full of flying objects. Molly stopped for a second to sneeze because of the dust that had started moving too, continuing right away again, flicking at the window so it opened and let a breeze of fresh air blow in the stuffy room.

Sherlock had moved, so he was now standing with his back towards Molly. That gave her a clear view of his magnificent rear, which made Molly lose her attention on what she was doing, making a rolled up pair of socks fly straight out of the window.

Her face turned beetroot red. "Sorry sorry! _Accio_," she said and the socks flew back into the room. Sherlock raised his eyebrow and snorted, obviously amused. Embarrassment filled her.

* * *

Sherlock's clothes were either nicely tucked in the old chest of drawers or put on top of the pile that desperately needed washing, together with his bedsheets. The glass jars were now on top of a shelf, next to his impressing collection of books, to which Molly's eyes often wondered. Pieces of parchment that were still of use, they put in the desk's drawers, the ones that were used and full of Sherlock's messy handwriting were thrown in the bin.

The clean-up didn't take long. With the capable pair of the skillful wizard and witch, they managed to get the room more-or-less in order just before Mrs. Holmes called them down for breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

_The clean-up didn't take long. With the capable pair of the skillful wizard and witch, they managed to get the room more-or-less in order just before Mrs. Holmes called them down for breakfast. _

They ate the omelettes that Sherlock's mum had made with great appetite. Since they had left the castle early, they had decided to skip breakfast because it hadn't been served yet. Molly had been quite hungry because of that.

Mrs. Holmes smiled fondly at the young couple, remembering her youth. She wondered when will Sherlock realize that Molly was more than a friend to him. It was as clear as day to anyone who had been near those two for more than five minutes, that the boy was in love with the girl just as much, or even more, as the girl was in love with him.

Mrs. Holmes asked about their life at school and Molly answered, cheerfully describing their adventures, Sherlock adding a couple of remarks inbetween to specify facts. The plates were soon empty and Violet waved her wand so they floated to the sink, the water started running and the dish-washing brush rubbing the plates clean.

Molly didn't stop talking, she only looked at it with her eyes full of wonder and continued with her story about Sherlock's discovery of one of the students' secret organizations that was discriminating muggle-born students, especially first graders.

Mrs. Holmes could see a light shade of pink cover Sherlock's cheeks when Molly complimented him.

* * *

The rest of the day went on smoothly with no particularly interesting events. Sherlock locked himself in his freshly-cleaned room and Molly helped Mrs. Holmes in the garden.

Violet was very interested in muggle gardening, so she didn't use magic when it wasn't needed. It was good news to Molly, who didn't really know any gardening spells, but on the other hand was quite experienced in weeding, since her mother had a large flower bed, which she had to take care of from time to time.

The sun was hot above their heads by noon and Molly was beginning to feel the first signs of tiredness from bending over the ground, picking all the weed between the flowers, wrestling with a very suspicious looking liana and trying to cut the branches of a fearfully shivering bush. She stretched her back and arms, trying to release the tension in her shoulders.

Violet called from across the garden: "You didn't need to exert yourself so much, Molly dear. I could've handled it myself."

Molly smiled and brushed it off. "I was happy to. I rather like working in the garden."

"Well dear, you should definitely take a break now. I can do the rest myself. The Bouncing Bulbs are quite sneaky and need the right approach," Mrs. Holmes said, while sending a casual glance towards the open window on the second floor. "You should try to get the mister to show you around the area. He has this nasty habit of brooding inside even when the weather is as nice as it is today." She smirked.

Molly giggled and searched out a piece of paper torn from her notebook from the front pocket of her trousers. She took her wand out of her bun where she liked to keep it so it would be easy to reach when needed and waved it, casting a spell that folded the paper into a small owl. The owl spread its wings and elegantly flew first in a circle around the girl's head and then up to the open window. After it disappeared inside seconds of silence passed until the curly-haired boy walked to the window, lifting a questioning eyebrow.

The witch waved awkwardly, a bright smile on her face, which even made Sherlock's lip twitch upwards. He turned and with a silent pop apparated next to Molly, startling her.

"The stairs are made for a reason, Sherlock Holmes!" she exclaimed, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. A difficult challenge because of the close proximity of the smirking boy.

"Stairs are boring," he said.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Everything is boring to you if it hasn't got anything to do with mysteries and science."

"The unknown is always more interesting than the obvious."

"So you keep saying."

"Because it is so."

"Depends on the viewpoint."

"Everything depends on the viewpoint, Molly. What is interesting to you then?"

"If you look hard enough, you can find something worth looking for in everything." She smiled. "The world is not black and white. You should know it best, Mr. Science."

For a moment Sherlock's eyes squinted as he seemed to think about Molly's words. "So you find... everything interesting? It seems a bit hard to believe."

"If I bother to look, then yes. You should try it, too."

Sherlock looked at her, contemplated the suggestion and then shrugged. "It's more your area. You find the good in everything, I find the bad."

"Wouldn't have it any other way if you want ro catch any criminals in the future." She laughed and turned to the footpath that lead to the garden's gate. "Now take me walking, consulting detective."

His cheeks turned red. "I wouldn't have told you that if I had known that you would start teasing me about it."

"I'm not teasing you, Sherlock! I think it's brilliant!"

His cheeks went even redder.

* * *

They got back from their walk for lunch and then went out again after they had eaten.

Molly noticed that Sherlock was more talkative than usual and she was happy about it. "It must be home that makes him more comfortable," she thought to herself.

Sherlock lead them to a quiet area in the forest behind his house, next to a river. The riverside was covered with soft but dry grass, so they sat down. Sherlock started fiddling with his wand and practised unharmful nonverbal spells on the toad that was innocently sitting on a warm stone.

Molly on the other hand was lying on her back, eyes closed and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her skin. The air was filled with birds singing, water running and the sound of a slight breeze making the trees moan quietly, like they were trying to speak to each other, occasionally disturbed by a croak when Sherlock did something the toad wasn't particularly fond of.

After some time Sherlock joined her, lying on his back as well.

* * *

A familiar hoot woke Molly from her nap.

The sky was getting dark and the ground cold, which meant that she had accidentally slept until the evening.

Sherlock was sitting up. He was looking at the sky, where the recognizable shape of Artemis was flying around. She seemed to have caught a hare between her long claws and was now proudly showing off.

A small smile grazed Sherlock's features as he watched the elegant creature whom he obviously cared for, no matter how much he would try to deny it. He had gotten Artemis when he was accepted at Hogwarts as a gift from his mother and father.

"We should be going back. It's starting to get colder and you aren't really warmly dressed," he quietly said and rose, reaching a hand for Molly to grab. She accepted and the boy pulled her up. For a moment they stood there, Molly's hand in his, looking into each other's eyes.

Sherlock's breathing was slow, but Molly could feel his pulse under her fingers. It was beating fast. Molly's dark eyes were wide with awe as she stared into his ocean ones, which seemed almost golden in the light of the setting sun.

Sherlock could not have torn his gaze away. He was mesmerized by the deepness of her brown doe eyes, framed with thick lashes that cast long shadows on her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted and for one passing second he thought what would it feel like if he pressed his mouth on hers and kissed the beautiful girl that was miraculously one of the few people who could tolerate him and perhaps even liked to be in his company.

His drain of thought was interrupted by Artemis's, who was feeling like nobody was turning her any attention, another loud hoot.

They both turned their eyes to the ground, Molly's face turning as red as a tomato.

Sherlock coughed and repeated: "We should be going back."

Molly nodded in reply and they started walking back to the house, Artemis following them above their heads, both peeking at each other when they though the other was looking away.

Neither of them noticed that they were still holding hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Soft tapping noise. A yellow light. A scent of freshly washed sheets. A soft pillow, softer than usual. A pencil scratching on paper. Tapping noise again.

Molly yawned, covering her mouth with her hand, and slowly opened her eyes. The first thing that she saw was a white ceiling, followed by dark blue walls covered with pictures and a large wardrobe. She turned her head slightly and saw Sherlock lying on his stomach on his large bed, sketching something in a notebook. He raised his eyes from the paper and met her eyes.

"Morning," he greeted and lowered his head back to the work at hand.

Molly nodded sleepily from the mattress on the floor and massaged her right shoulder, which had gone stiff because she had slept on it. Pushing the blanket off, she rose and with another big yawn she grabbed her clothes and cosmetics bag and went across Sherlock's room to his bathroom.

After she had cleared herself up, she went back, folded her blanket neatly and put her pajamas, which were actually just a vest and a pair of shorts, under the pillow.

After thinking for a moment what to do next, she sat on the bed next to Sherlock and tried to peek over his shoulder to see what he was so intensely drawing. Before she could even see a glimpse, Sherlock had closed his notebook with a snap.

"I can't see?" Molly pouted.

Sherlock rose and put the sketch in his desk drawer. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p'.

Molly's smile dropped. "Oh."

Sherlock stood for a moment, uncertain. "Let's go down. Mummy is probably waiting for us. She's an early riser." He walked to the door and opened it, tapping his bare foot on the floor.

Molly followed him and they went downstairs to the kitchen, where Violet was indeed waiting for them, table prepared with a pile of pancakes and a bowl in the centre, filled with large chocolate eggs.

"Happy Easter, dears! I hope you slept well, Molly love!" Mrs. Holmes asked immediately when she saw her, being the polite host she was.

"I did! Thank you," she replied. "Happy Easter!"

The three of them sat behind the kitchen table and Violet put a plate in front of both of them. They ate the pancakes in a comfortable silence, chewing on them slowly, savouring the magnificent flavour.

After wiping their fingers, Mrs. Holmes started handing out the huge chocolate eggs.

"That one is for you, Sherlock. And this is yours, Molly dear," she said.

Sherlock's egg was dark blue with bronze stars and Molly's was a yellow one with bumblebees. The boy seemed to be indifferent, but the ladies saw through his suppressed smile. His mouth twitched a little as he thanked his mummy, eyes sparkling.

Molly was overjoyed about her egg. It was cute and colourful, just as she liked things. It was a pity to eat them, but in the end, they had destroyed them.

* * *

That day wasn't so bright and sunny anymore, but it was still warm. A few lonely rays of light peeked out between the clouds, so that the weather didn't look gloomy and dark, but rather nice.

Molly and Sherlock helped Mrs. Holmes clean up after breakfast and then descended back to Sherlock's room, so that he could show her his research, that they had been too tired to look at last night, after eating dinner and both of them reading their books before going to bed.

Now they were both sitting on Sherlock's bed, parchments and photos surrounding them, delved deep in the information. Sherlock explained Molly what facts he had searched out and how he found what was their cause and how to prevent them or to use them in his advantage.

Molly was extremely interested in everything he said, listening the boy's deep resonating voice almost devotedly, swallowing his every word, asking questions now and then if she didn't understand or if she wanted to know more.

The reason why Sherlock was such a good friend with her was that she was very intelligent. She never complained about him or his erratic behaviour, she didn't annoy him with stupidity like others and she was observant, sometimes seeing things that even slipped from under Sherlock's attention. And even though she was a bit clumsy, she was also very elegant in her own way. He sometimes caught himself looking at her swift wand movements and her skills in making potions, cutting and stirring with extreme precision.

Sherlock's explanations were lively - very few people were genuinely interested in what he did. John was undoubtedly his best friend, but it was very often that he couldn't follow Sherlock's train of thought and the reasons behind some of his actions. That's why he searched out the company of Molly. She wasn't one to blindly follow out of loyalty, but instead helped him to reason and then carry out the actions himself. He just found it more helpful.

That was why he had entrusted her with the knowledge of his personal wishes and dreams. He knew that she would understand them and support him, giving valuable tips and even helping to carry them out.

He had told her about his dream of becoming a consulting detective and she had been enraptured by the idea. The thought of creating a whole new profession to fit his wishes seemed brilliant to her, because with a mind as wide as Sherlock's, the society's boundaries wouldn't have let him evolve and would have kept him stuck in one place, driving him crazy.

So Sherlock knew that Molly was someone who showed genuine interest in what he did, which made him quite eager to show her his discoveries. He knew that although her mind would sometimes wonder into far-off places, she would always return to his track of thought.

At the moment he could see her watching his mouth, not particularly listening to him talking about his theory of splinches in different body areas and how they were connected to the time, place and way of apparating. Molly's consistent staring made him blush, but he elected to ignore it instead of snapping at her, because he knew that she wasn't thinking about what she was doing.

After some time she snapped out of it, Sherlock noticing her eyes that turned straight to her lap and her small dreamy smile, which made him smirk.

* * *

The day went by fast and nicely. Sherlock and Molly had cleaned Artemis's personal owlery, that Sherlock's father had built for her when she had just been a huge ball of down. It had been filled with bones of both small and big animals. Being the huge hunter she was, she had shown off to them, flying over their heads, dropping the mostly eaten corpses to their feet.

It was good that they weren't so easily bothered by dead bodies or the work would have taken a lot longer.

In the evening when they were getting ready to go to sleep, Molly went to the bathroom to prepare for bed. She washed her face and put on the cream that she had bought from Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions shop in Diagon Alley. Mary had recommended it to her and she continued to use it even now, when her skin was in perfect condition and not struggling with acne.

Molly brushed her teeth and combed her long hair, letting it down for the night so it flowed like a curtain down her back. When she proceeded to change into her nightwear, she discovered that she had left her shorts under the pillow.

"Oh great," Molly muttered, put on her vest and grabbed her bag and clothes.

She slowly breathed in. When she opened the bathroom door, she saw that Sherlock was drawing in his notebook again. Molly carefully sneaked in the room, closing the door behind her.

Hearing the squeak of the floorboards, Sherlock lifted his gaze. The first thing he saw were a pair of slim and pale legs, then some lacy underwear and then the profusely blushing face of Molly. His eyes wondered down again as he took in the magnificent view. He may have been inexperienced and not interested, but he was still a man and right now, when he could see so much of something he had dreamed about, he couldn't tear his gaze away.

Molly could feel her body temperature rising under Sherlock's observant eyes. When she saw that he was not going to stop looking, she threw the bundle of clothes at his face. He shook himself out of it and took the jeans, shirt and her matching lacy bra out of his face, holding the bra up with one finger hooked under the strap, smirking.

Molly blushed even deeper and grabbed the clothes back, immediately diving beneath her sheets on the mattress. After some wiggling she got her shorts on and turned her face back towards the bed, cheeks still pink.

Sherlock had closed his notebook and put it away, so now he was lying in the middle of his double-bed, facing Molly.

They just looked at each other for some time, both knowing how they felt about it. That it wasn't just friendship that was between them. They both were attracted to each other both romantically and sexually and they guessed and hoped that it was returned. They were inexperienced, neither had had a partner in their life, and they didn't know how to proceed. So for the moment, they just looked at each other until sleep claimed them, hoping that tomorrow will bring some clearance between them.


	5. Chapter 5

Although the tension between them grew with each day, they didn't dare to do anything about it. Until Mycroft arrived on Wednesday things had been almost boringly calm and uneventful.

In the middle of the afternoon he and Sherlock's father arrived back to their home while Molly and Sherlock were being lazy in the living room. Molly was reading a book and Sherlock was staring at the ceiling, back on the floor and legs on the sofa next to the girl. His fingers were under his chin in a pose which Molly had named "the praying detective".

"May I ask you what you are doing, brother dear?" Mycroft asked instead of greeting when he entered the room, wearing a dark green fancy robe and a mocking smile.

Molly, so engrossed in her book, just raised her eyes for a moment, nodding towards the man and then continuing with her story. Sherlock didn't move at all.

"You've put on 4 pounds since I last saw you, Mickey, going by the heaviness of your step. I'm afraid that I'll be traumatized by the sight of you, so if you don't mind..." he made a shooing motion with his hand and put it back under his chin.

"Pleasant as always, Sherlock. I shall leave you and Miss Hooper alone then so you could do... whatever you teenagers do." He sent another bitter smile in their direction and left the room, neither of the so called teenagers even blinked an eye.

Molly's cheeks were slightly pink - she had gotten to an especially romantic part of the book, where the two main characters engaged in a fierce kiss. The man had grabbed the woman around her waist and pressed her intimately against him, at the same time running his ton-

"What on Earth are you reading?"

Having forgotten Sherlock's presence in the room, he had sneaked behind her, supporting his head on the back of the sofa, peeking at the text she was reading behind her. With a loud snap she closed the book in embarrassment.

"Oh this... Just something Mary stuck in my bag. It's nothing, nothing," she stuttered while jumping up from the sofa, hiding the book behind her back. Truth was that she had wanted to read that book for ages. It was a wizard novel so she couldn't buy it from a muggle store, but she was also too shy to purchase it from Flourish and Blotts. Mary had been kind enough to borrow her her copy of it.

Sherlock of course understood that and he squinted his eyes. A second later his eyes went as wide as saucers when he looked in the direction of the windows. Molly immediately looked there as well, so that Sherlock had the chance to snatch the book from behind her.

Twirling his wand in his hand, he casually thumbed through the book.

"What in the name of Merlin's beard possessed you to read such idiocy?"

Molly made her way to the other side of the sofa and tried to get it back. Sherlock raised it above his head, so that the short girl couldn't reach it, and pointed his long wand at her nose.

"Don't you wave your stick around my face. Give it back." She was annoyed and a deep frown was on her face.

Sherlock, clearly enjoying the look of agitated Molly, slipped past her, out of the room, up the stairs, Molly right behind him. He opened the door to his room and sliding in his socks he landed on the bed.

Molly, who didn't expect the smooth spot on the floor, landed directly on top of him, her breast firmly pressed against his chest, their noses touching. Sherlock stared into her eyes, unable to look away. His hands had crept up around her waist, the book forgotten on the bed.

When his fingers touched the skin that had been bared by her risen top, she felt a warm shiver course through her body, which made her eyes flutter half-closed. Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks and Sherlock experimentally brushed his nose against hers, making her open her chocolate-brown eyes, so that he could continue to stare in them.

Molly's gaze lowered to his lips, then right up again, a second of hesitation gone as fast as it came. She pressed her lips against his.

Sherlock's heart started beating a manic rhythm and his body froze, not acquainted with the new sensations. In a moment of fright that she had done something wrong, she pulled away.

He collected himself and pushed himself up so that they rolled over, Molly now being trapped under him. He lowered himself and claimed her mouth in a proper kiss, making Molly gasp for breath and her limbs turn to jelly. Sherlock's hands found their way back to her waist, under her shirt, relishing the feeling of her silky skin beneath his fingers.

Molly grabbed his arms and moved upwards, tracing the lines of his slightly toned muscles, reaching his shoulders, neck and then his tousled batch of curly hair, which she had always been so very fond of.

Their lips were a perfect match. Molly playfully bit his lower lip and got a response of Sherlock lowering his hands from her waist to her buttocks and rising her up from the bed onto his lap. She wrapped her legs around him, pushing them even closer together, until Sherlock gasped.

Molly's reflex was to pull away, but Sherlock held her in place.

"Sorry," she whispered, blushing and hiding her face in his neck.

He chuckled. "Believe me, I don't mind."

He lifted her chin with his finger so that she would look at him. At first she was shy and peeked from under her lashes, but after Sherlock persistently poked her side, she raised her eyes to meet his, the calming ocean.

He pecked her lips lightly, which made Molly blush even more and Sherlock chuckle again, the deep vibration of his voice sending shivers down her back.

"Enjoying yourselves much?" a voice sounded from the open door.

Sherlock groaned, grabbing his wand from the bed and waving it so the door banged shut in front of Mycroft's face.

Mrs. Holmes shouted from downstairs: "No banging the doors, Sherlock!"

Now it was Molly's turn to giggle. The joyful sound brought a smile back to his face.

"Brothers," he sighed dramatically.

Molly laughed. "I should know. I have two."

"Yes, I remember." He touched his nose, where Molly's oldest brother had punched him.

They quietly laughed together.

* * *

"Knight to D5."

"Rook to D5. Checkmate."

Sherlock put his head in his hands. "How is this possible?"

Molly winked at him playfully. "Beginner's luck. Next time I'll lose horribly and you know it."

"You know I don't believe in that sort of things." He raised his eyebrow.

"What? Me losing horribly? Well if you say so it mu-"

"No no! Beginner's luck!"

She laughed. "I know. You were going easy on me anyway."

"True. Another round?"

"Might as well."

* * *

After the next five times of losing Molly got tired. Sherlock had been surprised when she had asked to be taught wizard chess at all so he was glad to have got to play it with her. She had been a challenging opponent.

He put the chess set away into his desk drawer next to his mysterious notebook and then lay down next to Molly on his bed, looking at the ceiling.

"What do you plan to do after finishing Hogwarts?" he asked suddenly.

She thought about if for some time before answering: "When I was ten, I wanted to become a pathologist. Right now? I don't know. Hogwarts doesn't really teach the stuff I'd need in a muggle university."

He smirked. "Yes. Once you're in the wizard world, there is no way out."

She smiled, too. "Not that I mind. But now...? I'll probably go study to be a healer. St. Mungo seems interesting enough."

He turned to his side so he was facing her now. "Do you really think I'd succeed as a consulting detective?"

Molly was surprised by the self-doubt in his voice. "Of course," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "you're a genius."

He snorted. "Hardly."

Molly rose up sitting. "Of course you are. That is something which is clear."

He lifted his eyebrow sceptically. "You really think so?"

"Yes!"

"That's... very kind of you, Molly. Thank you."

"Oh don't get so sentimental! That's supposed to be me!"

He laughed. "Alright."

Molly giggled, too, and snuggled closer to him, wrapping her arm around him. Sherlock kissed the top of her hair and pulled her closer.

"I love you, Sherlock," she whispered.

It was like something got stuck in Sherlock's throat. He was baffled by how much this girl continued to take over his head and his heart by saying or doing something so little.

So he lifted her up and kissed her. Tenderly, lovingly, putting his feelings into his actions, giving her the reassurance she needed. The kiss was a promise. Promise to protect, cherish and hold close, to never let go.

"Thank you, Molly."


End file.
